


After the After

by Mari_Marie



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, But everything is fine because Joe is there, Hurt Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multiple seizures actually, Nicky has a seizure, Soft Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28222323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_Marie/pseuds/Mari_Marie
Summary: Nile glances at Nicky standing behind Joe, silent and still like he’s there but not there. She frowns. “Is he okay?”“No,” Andy answers. “He’s seizing.”
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 22
Kudos: 470





	After the After

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene between leaving the lab and going to the pub. 
> 
> Italicized dialogue represents the dialect Joe and Nicky use when they’re alone together.

Once they’re in the car, there’s no more talking, which is fine. Nicky is beyond words at this point anyway, drowsy as he floats in a post-healing exhausted haze. He feels Joe’s quick grasp and squeeze of his knee from the front seat – a grounding, reassuring pressure – then loses track of time. He doesn’t know how long they travel, but it’s dusk when they arrive. He rouses at the movement around him and recognizes the safehouse when he slides out of the backseat behind Nile.

She bites back a groan as she straightens to her full height. Her body healed but still sore with the achiness that lingers after catastrophic injuries – like those sustained when you throw yourself out of the window of a high-rise.

Or literally have your brains blown out.

Nicky swallows at the thought. He can still feel the penetrative presence of the gun in his mouth, can still taste the coppery tang of blood. The back of his throat is coated with the acrid residue a fired bullet leaves behind, and he can tell a massive migraine is building. He wants to brush his teeth and take a shower, then go to sleep with Joe wrapped around him and forget the past 24 hours. He’ll accomplish three of those goals.

Joe’s gaze makes its rounds, assessing each of them before settling on Nicky. “I’ll clear the house.”

It’s a testament to how shitty Andy feels when she doesn’t protest. Anywhere they go, she usually goes first. But not now, not when she’s bracing herself against the car door to remain on her feet. “Take Nile with you.”

Not Booker since Joe might take the opportunity alone to beat the shit out of him and not Nicky because even without overhearing what Joe had said before he had snapped Keane’s neck, Andy had sensed something was off with Nicky. His steps a bit shaky, his reflexes not quite as sharp.

He moves forward now to stand beside Joe, and it’s the first time Andy has gotten a good look at the back of him – his hair matted with blood and brain matter, his neck streaked with the same. A headshot, then. Those always _suck_. The healing is somewhat instant, but the full recovery takes longer. He’ll be out of it for at least a day as his brain completes the intricate work of reconnecting synapses. 

Nicky doesn’t speak – never needs to with Joe – but his intention is clear to all of them. He will help clear the house beside his beloved regardless of his condition.

Joe’s smile is brief, tinged with concern. His gaze sweeps over Nicky once more before turning and leading the way.

As Andy watches them go, she’s aware of Booker moving closer to her side and cuts her eyes in his direction. _Don’t fucking touch me_ communicated loud and clear.

He holds up his hands, taking two steps back.

She tilts her head toward the trunk, giving him something useful to do, then glances across the hood of the car at Nile.

Nile nods as Joe’s piercing whistle echoes from the house announcing an all clear, and while none of them had doubted that outcome, the confirmation is still welcomed. They don’t need any more shit today.

Nile matches her pace alongside Andy as Booker gathers items from the trunk and follows at a safe distance. Once inside, Andy eases down to sit in the nearest chair, making a conscious effort to keep her expression neutral, her breathing slow and even because everything is fine. There’s nothing to see here.

It doesn’t fool any of them.

Andy’s pain tolerance may be off the charts, but it doesn’t erase the fact that she’s mortal and bleeding.

Nile kneels beside her, unzipping Andy’s jacket and doing her best to keep her own expression neutral when she sees the shirt saturated with blood; the fabric shiny and wet with it.

Nicky stares down at them seeming dazed and detached as Joe appears around the corner.

Booker sets the gun and Andy’s labrys on the table, then mutters something about going to get food.

Andy wonders if he’ll return.

Joe hopes he doesn’t since it will save them the trouble of having to figure out what to do with him. He pushes the thought away as he hands the oversized first aid kit to Nile. “This should have everything you need.”

“Me?”

Joe nods. He trusts her military training, trusts _her_. He knows she can clean, disinfect, and stitch a wound. “Divide and conquer,” he says, confident Nile will read between the lines – that while Andy is important to him, Nicky will always be his priority.

Nile glances at Nicky standing behind Joe, silent and still like he’s there but not _there_. She frowns. “Is he okay?”

“No,” Andy answers. “He’s seizing.”

Joe turns around so fast he almost loses his balance. His arms are outstretched, prepared to catch a falling Nicky, but Nicky is not collapsing. He’s motionless; his vacant stare the only outward sign of internal chaos.

“Not _that_ kind of seizure,” Andy amends, stifling a grunt as she shifts in the chair.

“What kind is it?” Nile asks, unfamiliar with any type that doesn’t involve convulsing on the floor.

Andy hisses as she peels away the blood-soaked shirt from her wound. “Absence.”

Nile has never heard the term but assumes her new family has encountered this before since no one is freaking out. The assumption is correct.

“It’s common after a headshot,” Andy explains, using the teaching moment as a distraction from the pain searing through her stomach. “You’re alive and awake, but your brain is still getting its shit together.”

Nile nods. It makes sense even if it’s unnerving to witness. “Will he be alright?”

“Of course,” Joe assures, though he sounds (and looks) worried to Nile when she glances at him standing there patient and watchful as he waits for Nicky to return.

After a few seconds, he does. His blinks are slow and unfocused, but each one loosens the knot of anxiety in Joe’s chest.

“Nicolo,” he calls, smiling when Nicky’s attention drifts to him; his gaze becoming sharper, more lucid. “ _There you are, habibi_.”

Nile wonders about that last part – the phrase spoken in a mixture of unrecognizable languages that elicits one of Nicky’s soft, barely-there smiles. Joe murmurs something else as he takes Nicky’s hand; both staring at each other as if no one else exists.

“They make me sick,” Andy grumbles, though there’s no heat in her tone. She watches them with unguarded fondness before calling to Joe. When he turns, she jerks her chin toward the hall. “Go.”

“Yeah,” Nile agrees, feeling a renewed urgency to not only tend to Andy’s wound but to make sure Nicky is cared for as well. It’s what families do. “Go. I got this.”

Joe’s smile transforms to something a proud dad would give his daughter. He holds her gaze, then looks at Andy before tugging Nicky forward.

Nicky shoots them a backward glance as he follows Joe down the familiar hallway. As muddled as his thoughts are, he can’t remember the last time they stayed here, but he does remember this house has enough rooms for everyone to claim their own. It’s a rare luxury; one he’s especially thankful for tonight since the bite of betrayal is too fresh to sleep in a bed beside Booker.

The bathroom light flickers twice when its switch is flipped, then glows steady and bright as Joe closes the door. He stares at Nicky within inches of his face and knows this moment could be different. If Nicky hadn’t revived on the floor of Merrick’s lab, he would be standing here alone. Alone in this room, in this house, in this life.

Nicky shakes his head. “ _I’m here_ ,” he whispers, his hand cupping Joe’s jaw.

Joe knows the words are meant to be reassuring, but they lose their impact when Nicky’s gaze vacates; his pale eyes locked in an unseeing stare as his hand slips from Joe’s face. Joe catches it on instinct, pressing a kiss to the palm, then holding it against his chest. His thumb sweeping back and forth over Nicky’s inner wrist.

When Nicky continues to stare beyond him, Joe leans forward, resting their foreheads together as he closes his eyes; his thumb still smoothing over Nicky’s pulse point. He can hear Andy and Nile talking down the hall but doesn’t listen to them. He remains alert for only one sound and smiles when he detects it several seconds later – that subtle shift in Nicky’s breathing.

“Yusuf?”

The uncertainty in his voice makes Joe’s heart ache. Nicky is beginning to realize there are small gaps in his timeline, and though they’ve both experienced these micro seizures before, it’s no less upsetting.

“ _I’m here_ ,” Joe says, returning Nicky’s words to him.

Nicky’s fingers curl around Joe’s, anchoring himself and ghosting a smile when Joe lifts their clasped hands to brush a kiss across his knuckles. He swallows, pushing down the confusion and vague sense of panic, then wrinkles his nose at the unpleasant tastes lingering in his mouth.

Joe nods his understanding and uses his free hand to rummage through the drawers until he finds Nicky’s blue toothbrush and a questionable tube of toothpaste.

“ _It’s fine_ ,” Nicky tells him, preferring to take his chances with potentially expired toothpaste than to continue resisting the urge to gag every time he’s reminded of the blood that flooded his mouth back at the lab.

Joe brushes another kiss across Nicky’s knuckles before releasing his hand and turning to the shower. The pipes groan with disuse as he twists the knob; the showerhead coughing out random spurts of water until a steady current begins to flow.

At the sink, Nicky is beginning round two of brushing his teeth. His movements more frenzied than routine. Desperate to scrub away the memory of what happened.

Joe watches him, allowing Nicky his space even as he can tell he’s becoming more frantic, balancing on the edge of hysteria. When the foam Nicky spits out is tinged pink, Joe steps in. “ _Enough_ ,” he murmurs as Nicky rinses his mouth and appears to be gearing up for round three. “Nicolo.” He turns off the sink’s faucet and lowers Nicky’s trembling hand, prying the toothbrush from his grasp. “ _Enough._ ”

Nicky’s eyes shine with unshed tears as they stare at each other, as Joe thumbs droplets of water from his lips. The touch is repeated before Joe leans forward with a kiss; his tongue licking into Nicky’s mouth.

Nicky stiffens at the intrusion, then relaxes when his mind catches up. This is not unfamiliar or unwelcomed. This is comfort. This is safety. This is _home_. This is the love of his life trying to soothe him, to sweep away the remnants of unspeakable violation.

Joe deepens the kiss when he feels Nicky melt against him. Behind them, the shower continues to run. Steam is beginning to fog the mirror, and as reluctant as he is to pull away, Joe knows they need to bathe before the warm water runs out.

Nicky’s cheeks are as flushed as his lips when they separate. He’s pliant in Joe’s arms as Joe helps him out of his clothes, then returns the favor, lifting Joe’s shirt over his head while Joe handles the rest.

When they’re both naked, their gazes roam over each other’s bodies, searching for any unhealed wounds. Finding none, their eyes meet; hands reaching, fingers intertwining.

Joe leads Nicky into the shower and pulls him close. His hands gliding over wet skin, over Nicky’s hip to the small of his back. Nicky presses closer, his arms wrapping around Joe’s shoulders. Their silhouettes moving as one behind the curtain while water streams over them, its clarity ruined – dingy with dirt, discolored with blood as it swirls around the gurgling drain.

" _I love you_ ," Joe whispers against Nicky’s mouth, his heart swelling when Nicky smiles in that soft, sweet way he always does. Joe can’t imagine having to live without it, without _him_.

“I love you.”

Joe smiles at that, remembering how hard his Nicolo had worked to learn the Arabic phrase in the beginning. The memory makes him love this man even more, and he wraps his arms tighter around him now, feeling Nicky do the same.

They stand that way for several minutes, hugging each other as the water continues to pour over them like it can wash away every bad thought, every horrifying possibility that haunts Joe _after_ the after. After one of Nicky’s deaths. After the adrenaline is gone and he can torment himself with what ifs.

What if Nicky’s immorality ends before his?

What if one day Nicky doesn’t wake up?

What if –

Joe’s thoughts are interrupted when he feels an abrupt change in Nicky’s stance; his back becoming rigid, his arms tense. Joe knows he’s gone again and pulls him impossibly closer, reassured by the steady rhythm of Nicky’s heartbeat against his chest.

Seconds tick by before Nicky relaxes into Joe’s embrace. “ _I’m here_ ,” he says, his words a bit slurred but nonetheless warm against Joe’s skin as he nuzzles into his neck, seeking and giving comfort. “ _I’m here_.”

Joe nods and kisses Nicky’s temple, his fingers nudging Nicky’s chin higher so he can kiss his mouth next.

Nicky hums, his lips vibrating with the sound.

They linger in the moment until Joe reaches for the shampoo. He keeps his touch gentle as he works through the matted strands, lathering and rinsing Nicky’s hair four times before he’s satisfied it’s clean. Soft kisses are peppered across his skin as Nicky grabs the soap and starts to bathe them both. When he’s finished, they kiss and hold each other until the water begins to cool.

The spray dwindles to lazy drips as Joe cuts the flow and helps Nicky out of the shower, keeping an eye on him as they dry off. His movements more sluggish and uncoordinated as his exhaustion rises closer to the surface. When he stumbles, Joe is there, arm around Nicky’s waist. He wraps the towels around their hips, then leads Nicky to their room.

At the opposite end of the hall, Nile is stitching Andy’s wound judging by the string of obscenities filling the house. 

Joe chuckles and pushes Nicky to sit on the edge of the bed before closing the door and turning to search for extra clothes. He finds them in the bottom drawer – sweatpants and t-shirts – but when he turns back, Nicky is staring past him.

Joe sighs as he dresses, reminding himself this is temporary. Nicky’s brain will complete its rewiring, and tomorrow he will be more alert, more present. It’s the only thing to look forward to since tomorrow they will also decide what to do with the traitor.

Joe glares at the thought of him, pissed that Booker’s betrayal is at the root of this; his actions and choices causing Nicky to silently seize every few minutes. He doesn’t know what Andy has in mind for punishment, but if their paths don’t cross with Booker again for a hundred years, it’ll be too soon.

“Yusuf.”

Joe blinks at the sound of his name spoken by a voice more familiar than his own. He smiles. “Nicolo.”

Nicky glances around the room, trying to regain his bearings. 

“ _It’s okay_ ,” Joe says, slipping the t-shirt over Nicky’s head. He eases him to his feet and hovers a steadying hand as he watches him finish the task. “ _Beautiful_.”

Nicky snorts and blushes at the same time, doubting he looks beautiful in sweatpants and a t-shirt but still pleased that Joe thinks so.

“ _Always_ ,” Joe assures, sealing the compliment with a kiss. He pulls back the blanket and waits for Nicky to settle before crawling in behind him.


End file.
